


Never Had a Friend Like Me

by Gala_and_Elle, theletterelle



Series: Slantverse [15]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gala_and_Elle/pseuds/Gala_and_Elle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theletterelle/pseuds/theletterelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon didn't have friends growing up. Spencer plans to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Had a Friend Like Me

“I’m serious,” says Brendon. “My parents won’t let me hang out with you anymore unless they meet you. They’re kind of... protective.”

“You don’t say,” snorts Spencer. “Is it a Mormon thing?” He turns into Brendon’s neighborhood, a row of houses that all look the same.

“LDS. I dunno, I don’t think so. It’s probably a youngest thing. They still think I’m a kid.” Brendon makes a face. “I’m the only one left at home, so they have nothing better to do than ride my ass. I mean--” He flushes. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Spencer says. He’d laugh, but Brendon would take it the wrong way. They pull into Brendon’s driveway. Brendon turns to him.

“You know what to say, right?”

“Brendon, you’ve been coaching me all day. I know what to say.”

“You’re helping me with my girl problems--”

“Brendon, I know. Knock it off.”

“Okay. Sorry.” At least Brendon’s not saying ‘sir’ today. Spencer’s not sure he won’t let it slip in a moment of stress, though.

Brendon lets them in the front door. “I’m home!” he calls. “Mom, I brought Spencer.”

Brendon’s mom comes in from the kitchen. From what Brendon said, Spencer thought she’d be wearing a 1950s dress and pearls, but she looks like an ordinary person in jeans and sweater. “Hi, honey. How was your day?” She goes to kiss him. Brendon ducks away.

“Hi, Mrs. Urie.” Properly coached, Spencer steps forward and holds out his hand. “I’m Spencer Smith.”

She actually shakes it. “Hello, Spencer. It’s nice to meet a friend of Brendon’s. We’ve heard so much about you. You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you? Are you here to work with Brendon on his dominance?”

“ _Mom_. Please don’t say dominance.” Brendon looks as embarrassed as Spencer’s ever seen him. “We’re gonna go to my room and do homework, okay?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Bren?” Brendon’s mom gives him a mom look. Brendon looks abashed.

“Sorry. Spencer, can I get you anything to drink or eat or anything?”

It’s a politeness thing, Spencer knows, but after all the warnings about being cool and keeping things quiet, it’s kind of funny for Brendon to be offering to serve him. He coughs. “No, thanks. No. I’m good.”

“Okay, come on, let’s go.” Brendon’s practically dancing from foot to foot. Spencer picks up his backpack, and Brendon dashes up the stairs.

Brendon’s room is a lot cleaner than Spencer’s. There are a couple band posters on the wall-- Arcade Fire, the Killers-- but there’s no gaming console, no TV, no DVD player, no computer. Just a bed, a desk, a dresser and nightstand. There’s a stereo on the desk, at least. Spencer doesn’t know what he’d do if Brendon didn’t even have a stereo.

“So.” Brendon waves a hand. “This is it. Um, what do you want to listen to? I have some CDs, but I broke my iPod and I have to do chores for like two months in order to get a new one. So there’s not a lot of choice, but I have some stuff you’ll probably like. Here, you should pick.” He opens a desk drawer to reveal about a hundred CDs, all neatly alphabetized. “What subject should we start with? How about Western Civ? I think we can knock that out the fastest.”

“What, you actually want to do homework now?” Brendon had told his mom that, sure, but Spencer had at least figured on some makeout time before scrambling to finish essays at the last minute.

Brendon stares at him blankly. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?”

“Well, yeah, okay, but not like right now now. I mean. Aren’t I supposed to be helping you with your dominance?” Spencer wiggles his eyebrows at Brendon. Brendon doesn’t seem to get the joke. He just looks uncomfortable and pushes Spencer’s backpack toward him.

“Brendon, jeez.” Spencer puts an arm around him. Brendon stiffens. Spencer’s never felt that before. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” says Brendon. “I’m okay, just-- we’ve really gotta get this done; I have to keep my grades up or I won’t get to go to Ryan’s anymore.” He squirms out of Spencer’s grasp and reaches for his textbook.

“Wait,” says Spencer, the dom note sharp in his voice. Brendon freezes. Spencer turns his face toward his own. “Kiss me first.” His mouth comes down on Brendon’s, tongue forcing entry. Brendon kisses back for one intense second, then pushes Spencer away.

Spencer is stunned. “I’m sorry,” says Brendon hurriedly, “don’t get mad, I just can’t do this here in their house, it’s not right.”

No. Spencer isn’t having it. “What. The. Fuck. All I wanted was a kiss. I mean Jesus, Brendon, is homework all you do when all your friends come over? What, do you read the Bible afterward?”

Brendon’s eyes flick down for a second. “Well, that’s never really come up. You’re the first friend I’ve had over since... well, ever, I think.”

Spencer blinks. “What? No way, you have tons of friends. There’s Pete, and Jon, and Ryan and Gee--”

“Those are your friends,” says Brendon.

 

“Those are your friends,” says Brendon.

“Then what-- wait.” Spencer frowns. “What about your friends from middle school?”

Brendon shrugs. “There are a couple people I see in the halls sometimes. Um, I don’t mean to be disrespectful at all, but could we please not talk about this? I really do want to get my homework done before my dad gets home.”

“Elementary?” Spencer tries.

“Homework,” says Brendon. “And no, not really.” If it weren’t Brendon, Spencer would say he looks angry.

-o-

Spencer can’t imagine his life without friends. He’s not the most popular guy in school, sure, but he’s known the people in his group since they were all in middle school together, and then there’s Ryan, who’s been his best friend for over ten years.

Brendon’s never had that. Brendon’s never had a Ryan in his life, or a Jon or a Mikey or even a Gabe. He sat by himself in the cafeteria, or ate in the library. He went home and did his homework. The loneliness hits Spencer in the gut.

When Spencer was six, Ryan used to come over and play Hot Wheels. Spencer practiced kissing with Mikey when they were twelve. Victoria used to braid his and Ryan’s hair, though Ryan always liked the little bows better than Spencer did.

Brendon missed all of that. Spencer can’t help but picture little Brendon in his room, looking sadly at the walls. God. It’s not fair. It’s not fair at all.

-o-

“Aren’t we going to Ryan’s?” asks Brendon.

“Not today,” says Spencer. “I’m gonna take you home. I’ve got a lot to do.”

“Are you angry with me? About yesterday?”

“What? No. No, not at all. I just have stuff to do.”

Brendon doesn’t say anything. When Spencer glances over at him, Brendon nods, then looks out the window.

Spencer drops Brendon off outside the house and drives away. Luckily it’s only a few miles to Spencer’s house. He parks the car, grabs his bike, and starts back toward Brendon’s.

This could all fail dramatically. Spencer could look like the world’s biggest tool, but it’s not fair; this should never have been how Brendon’s life went, and even if he can’t fix it, he can make it up to him.

Half an hour later, he’s ringing the doorbell. Brendon’s mom answers. She looks surprised. “Spencer, hello. Are you here to see Brendon?” He notices the hopeful lift in her voice, and it’s that more than anything else that tells him he’s doing the right thing.

“Hi, Mrs. Urie. Yes, please.”

“Brendon!” she calls. There’s a moment, then Spencer hears Brendon galumphing down the stairs. “Yeah, what--” he begins, then catches sight of Spencer. “Spence? Is everything okay?”

“Fine, everything’s fine,” Spencer assures him. “Can I just talk to you for a second? Outside?”

Brendon comes out, closing the door behind him. He looks terrified. “Please, not now,” he says in a strangled voice. “Do it tomorrow at school, I’ll be ready tomorrow--”

The pain in Brendon’s eyes is so sharp, Spencer can’t stand it. Talking around it is too hard, so he dives right in. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Spencer Smith. I’m in fourth grade, and I’m eight years old. How old are you?” This is the part where Spencer could look like the world’s biggest idiot. He’s never realized how fucking brave Brendon must be, opening himself up like he has.

It takes a second for Brendon to understand. Spencer can pinpoint the exact moment he gets it, when his eyes widen and a look of joy comes over his face. “I’m eight too,” says Brendon. “When’s your birthday? I bet I’m older than you.”

“September 2.”

“Hah!” Brendon’s face creases in glee. “Mine is April 12! I’m totally older than you!” He punches Spencer in the arm.

“Ow!” says Spencer, and punches back. Brendon stumbles, but grins like the sun has come out.

“Wanna ride bikes?” Spencer asks, indicating his. Brendon actually hops up and down, and scrambles toward the garage. “I have cards in my spokes,” he calls over his shoulder. “They make a really cool sound.”

Spencer’s not surprised to see that Brendon wasn’t lying. If anyone would still put cards in their bike, it’s Brendon. He is surprised to find out how happy that makes him. “I’ll race you to the end of the block!”

“It’s on,” says Brendon. Spencer takes off before Brendon even gets on his bike. “Hey, no fair! Cheater!” Brendon yells. Spencer eases off, though, and Brendon catches up quickly.

“It’s a tie,” shouts Brendon. “Wanna go around the block?”

His enthusiasm is contagious. “Yeah!” Spencer calls back. “Let’s find the storm drain and see if there’s anything cool in there!”

Brendon stands up to pump the pedals of his bike, his butt sticking out. Spencer has to resist the urge to slap it, but you just don’t do that with kids, it’s gross and wrong. Kids can’t consent to sexplay, and even though Brendon’s of age, it would ruin the illusion. This is supposed to be about Brendon having fun, not Spencer’s dick.

They play in the storm drain, then bike around the block a few times, faster and faster until Spencer’s wheezing for air. Brendon has boundless energy, though, and dances around Spencer while he’s trying to catch his breath. “Let’s watch a movie,” he chants, “let’s watch Aladdin, it’s my favorite, come on Spencer, let’s watch a movie!”

At least a movie doesn’t involve moving. Unless you’re Brendon, who has to act out all the parts and sing all the songs, and damn, does he have a hell of a voice. How did this kid have no friends? How did Spencer overlook him for so long?

“You sound really good,” says Spencer when the movie’s over. “I like your singing. Can you sing the Genie song again?”

Brendon grins wide. “Well Ali Baba had them forty thieves, Scheherazadie had a thousand tales, but master, you in luck cause up your sleeves, you got a brand of magic never fails!” He throws himself into all the genie’s moves, ending up on the floor with “You ain’t never had a friend like ME!”

-o-

Brendon has an entire set of G.I. Joes sitting in his closet. Spencer pulls them out and starts picking the ones he wants. “No!” says Brendon. “You can’t take Lady Jay; she’s my favorite. You can have Scarlett.”

“I don’t care,” says Spencer. “My favorite is Snake Eyes, anyway.” He picks up Junkyard. “I bet this would be Nate’s favorite.”

“He should come play too!” Brendon declares. “Maybe next time? Can you bring Nate next time?”

“I’ll ask him,” says Spencer. “Can I be Cobra Commander?”

“Sure,” says Brendon generously, “you can even be Destro too.” He fits a tiny gun into Lady Jay’s hand. “Pew pew pew!”

Spencer pews back. It’s awesome.

-o-

They play until it’s almost dark, until Brendon’s mom calls them both. “Brendon, dinner! Spencer, are you staying?”

Brendon nods frantically. “Stay, Spence, we’re having lasagna, it’ll be awesome!” he says in a loud whisper. But Spencer shakes his head. “Sorry, Mrs. Urie, I have to go home. Mom’s expecting me soon. But thank you.”

Brendon looks disappointed. “Are you going to come back?”

“Yeah,” says Spencer. “Probably not real soon, but I’ll definitely come over again. Just call me when you need me, okay?”

“Okay!” says Brendon, beaming. “Next time we can watch Beauty and the Beast. I can do Lumiere’s song for you. Or we could watch Aladdin again, if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Excellent,” Spencer says. “Come on, walk me out.”

Brendon goes with him, bouncing the whole way. Outside, Spencer puts his hands on Brendon’s shoulders. “Hey, timeout, Bren. When I came over... you were scared I was releasing you, weren’t you?”

The kid goes out of Brendon’s face like a light’s been extinguished. He scuffs his shoe on the ground. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, I was. Definitely. I wished I could have been better for you.”

Spencer pulls Brendon into a hug. “No. You’re perfect,” he says in Brendon’s ear. “I think we should call off the test. We’re way past that. What do you think?”

There’s a gulping sigh over Spencer’s shoulder. “I want that,” says Brendon. “Really a lot.”

“Awesome.” Spencer smiles and lets Brendon go. “I gotta go home before it gets dark. See you at school tomorrow, okay?

The little kid peers out of Brendon’s eyes again. “Okay.” He grins. Just before Spencer gets on his bike, Brendon throws his arms around him. “Are we friends, Spencer Smith?”

Spencer hugs him back. “You bet. Best friends.”


End file.
